The Small Town
by Melusina
Summary: After the war, Severus leaves, only to find someone back again. I resubmitted this story with a few alterations. Please read and review. SSRL


The small town  
  
The sun was setting. The chill of the evening crept into the air when Severus Snape entered the small town. He looked around him, taking in the quaint old houses and the old, powerful trees. An air of peace and quiet lay over the surroundings, and he decided to stay for the night.  
  
In the middle of the small town, at the market square, he found an inn. Like the houses it was old, but quaint and very beautiful. The owners obviously took good care of it. He entered the inn and was immediately greeted by the innkeeper who dried his hands with a cloth and asked him how he might be of an assistance. Snape, curtly but politely, said that he wanted food and a place to sleep. The innkeeper assured him that such might be arranged.  
  
He was immediately taken to his room. Having changed and refreshed himself, he entered the inn again and asked for dinner. The host swiftly served him with a plain but excellent meal. The innkeeper made a few general remarks but soon perceived that his new guest seemed unwilling to talk. So he just left him to his meal and gave his attention to his other guests.  
  
Snape was grateful for this discretion and began to relax slightly in his chair. He looked around him and studied the inn and its local visitors. The inn itself was rather dark, but cosy and comfortable. Smoke of fire and tobacco mellowed the walls and the ceiling. The wooden frame of the ceiling and the walls seemed to breathe long periods of comfort and reassurance. The small lights on the walls and the flames of the fireplace were reflected in the glass of the windows without hurting the eyes with their sharpness.  
  
Yet, there was a strange air of unease that hung in the room. Snape, a sharp observer and spy with years of bitter experience, thought he perceived a tension that permeated the whole atmosphere.  
  
He carefully watched the other visitors of the inn. There were apparently local visitors, regulars in the pub. The problem might be his perception. He had had a long day of travelling, and he was very tired. But he didn't think he could be mistaken in the edge of the voice of one of the men. Or have misjudged the subtle reluctance of the host to answer the summons. The men were sitting a bit too upright to be entirely comfortable, and the way they sometimes avoided each others' eyes was too inconspicuous not to notice. The memory of time spent with reluctant conspirators and mistrusting co-workers came unbidden to his mind and caused a tinge in his heart. He forced himself to concentrate on his dinner instead.  
  
He went to bed rather soon after that. It had been a while ago that he had been reminded of the past so forcefully. He desperately longed for some peace of mind, but he feared that the nightmares would once more torment his sleep.   
  
Although he was very tired, he didn't sleep very well that night in the inn. He had already spent months on this journey, going through the vast regions of the forest, collecting new and unknown herbs and plants and experimenting with whole new ways of preserving and sampling them. He had come across unknown and interesting recipes, and for the first time he felt some of his old enthusiasm for potions coming back.  
  
He had spent far too long on the desperate attempt to help and defeat Voldemort. He had worked and worked and worked, day and night, for weeks and months, driven by desperation and the ultimate, terrible fear, that he might never find salvation. The end of the war found him like an empty shell, unable to partake in the outbreak of joy, unwilling to stand up and claim his place among those who had won the war. Nothing seemed of importance anymore. Forgiveness an empty word, no longer relevant. He hadn't thought he could live in the dungeons for one more day, and so he had packed his belongings and left.   
  
He hadn't told anyone where he was going, not caring what was going to happen to his job or the remnants of his life. He hadn't left instructions on what to do with his house, nor did he care to say goodbye to anyone. He just left the place where he had lived for twenty years like a ghost in the night.  
  
He hadn't thought, at the time, that the indifference of the others could hurt him anymore. He hadn't thought that the way they turned away from him could have meant anything to him. He hadn't thought that he would still care that the minister started to talk about the prosecution of the followers of Voldemort. But somehow, he had.  
  
During the long months of his voyage, he had fled all but the necessary human contact. He had turned towards his herbs and his potions in a vain attempt to forget what had happened. The terrors of the locals didn't bother him. He smelled the air of the plants and the trees, the herbs and the flowers, and somehow, somewhere, he became alive again. But with his sanity came the pain. And the nightmares.  
  
In the course of the next days, he went about his business. He made vast wanderings in the forest and started to arrange his collection of herbs in categories. He studied the new texts that he had collected and made extensive notes on his findings. Upon the whole, he was content about what had been done.  
  
The unexplained tension in the town didn't escape him though. Often in his dealings with the inhabitants of the town, he had a slight feeling of being haunted, of uneasiness, of lurking danger and suspense. However, he couldn't put his finger on it. The feeling made him restless and uncomfortable. He didn't want to be reminded of all the misery and the pain of the period behind him, but somehow his peace of mind eluded him.  
  
One day he walked into the inn to find that there seemed to be an argument among the regulars. They broke it off when he came in, but when they saw that he didn't seem to be interested, continued their conversation, slightly subdued. The tension was still there, though, and Snape decided to take a seat in the far corner of the inn. He noticed that the conversation between the men was not lessening in intensity and in spite of himself became slightly nervous. He gripped the wand in his sleeve and murmured the translating spell under his breath.   
  
.....  
  
"I tell you, Markus, this cannot go on like that. We will soon be in trouble!" a big red-haired man said tensely.   
  
"Do you have any idea how to go on? They will never know. But we must be careful." The speaker was a smaller brown-haired man who was sitting next to him.   
  
"Nonsense! The last time it was the old widow Kautzenbach's son, and he is far too young. What they when cannot keep it in hand? Or when it catches someone even younger?"  
  
"It was the young fool's own fault. We must keep all the children inside the house. We cannot risk more accidents."   
  
A third man raised his voice. "What when it catches someone from out of town? We won't be able to force them into silence. What when someone doesn't confess that he was infected? What when it is a visitor we couldn't guard?"   
  
Silence. Snape felt that the eyes of the three man slid over to him, as unobtrusively as they could manage. They knew him for a foreigner, unable to speak their language. He assumed this was the only reason they spoke in his presence at all.   
  
"We must see to it that we don't have visitors when it happens," Markus coldly said. "We cannot risk it. We must lock them all in. And we must work on it. Like he said. He said there was a solution, a draught that would help. But it is very hard to make and he couldn't teach us."  
  
"Well, it will not be in another two weeks, so we have some time left. But we will have to get rid of him." With a very slight nod of his head in Snape's direction.  
  
"Martin won't be happy though, when we chase his visitors away. And this one seems to be well-paying and quiet enough. Do you think we will be able to chase them away every time it happens?"  
  
"We will just have to. We cannot risk it."  
  
"We cannot do that. Maybe it won't draw the attention the first time. Or perhaps he will leave by himself in time. But one day it will raise somebody's curiosity. And what when a new visitor arrives just when it is the time? We have to find a more permanent solution."  
  
"And that would be? Just kill everybody who was infected right there?"  
  
"It is impossible, and you know it. We have to find the draught he was talking about. No matter what it takes. Perhaps he didn't tell us all. How can we be certain that we can trust him anyway?"  
  
Snape very slightly raised an eyebrow. He was starting to be disturbed by the turn of the conversation.  
  
When he went to bed that might, he tossed around between the sheets a very long time before he was able to catch some sleep, and when he finally slumbered, he dreamed.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The other boy turned away from him, having answered his question and looking where his companions were. He could feel the polite disinterestedness, the casual friendliness that was extended to everybody.  
  
He quietly went back to his dorm, knowing very well that claiming the other boy's attention any longer would only result in impatience and irritation. He didn't want to be confronted with that. It hurt too much.  
  
Behind his back he could feel the eyes of everybody around and he straightened his back until it became painful. He wouldn't show them how he felt.  
  
He heard a fragment of a conversation and slowed down a bit in an attempt to overhear it without drawing attention to himself.  
  
".....as you know. That big knob under the Whomping Willow. It is the only way to get there... I wonder how Remus can stand it every time..."  
  
The quick look behind his back. Sirius Black, disappearing in a corridor... His heart, beating quickly. His eyes on Remus Lupin at every available, inconspicuous moment... The breathless moment when he managed to push the knob under the tree. The icy horror when he was confronted with the ferocious monster, the unspeakable evil of the anger with which the beast attacked him...  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Severus woke up with a start. His whole body was shivering and the sheets were drenched in sweat. He sat up and got out of bed, knowing that he wouldn't be able to sleep any more.  
  
He cursed himself for having allowed this moment of weakness. He attempted to shut his mind down from all the miserable memories, but they kept flooding his mind. He knew that this had been the only way for him to find out about Lupin's secret. He would never have gained Lupin's trust so far that the other boy would have confided in him willingly. He knew that he would never have betrayed Lupin's secret. He knew he would have cared enough about Lupin to protect him. Lupin had trusted Black, and Black had betrayed him just the same. Still, Lupin would continue to trust him, as Snape saw in the months that followed the incident. And Snape would be just as mistrusted as he was before.   
  
As he sat in his bed, cold, shivering, unable to catch sleep any more, he knew that he would have to leave the village. He couldn't acknowledge the threat the people seemed to be living under. He just knew that he had to leave.  
  
The next morning he hastily packed his sparse belongings and settled his bill with the innkeeper. He planned to spend the day in a nearby clearing, searching for more drops of the sparkling mildew and to find another inn towards the late afternoon.  
  
It was not to be.   
  
It was already late in the afternoon when he decided that enough work had been done that day and that he still needed to find another place to sleep. He carefully closed his flask with mildew drops and prepared to apparate when his eye caught something and he froze.  
  
No. No. Not that. Everything. Just not that. But with a sickening clarity he knew that he had seen it correctly. The conspicuous, wet spot on the tree, easily mistaken for an innocent discoloration. Except that Snape knew that it wasn't. Not this. A werewolf's saliva, silent token of a cursed region. But not just any werewolf's. A rabid werewolf's. He couldn't be mistaken in that particular smell. In had been engraved in his memory for more than twenty years.   
  
Every instinct told him that he had to get away as soon as he could. That he had put himself in enough danger as it was without continuing it. That a rabid werewolf no longer depended on the moon to transform, that the transformations became unpredictable, closely linked to the werewolf's temper. The cold that held Severus in its clutches seemed to envelop his heart in an icy layer and to lame his every movement. He couldn't move. He couldn't get away. He couldn't think.   
  
Despair gave him unexpected power and he apparated away, to a town relatively far outside the Dark Forest and comfortingly mundane. He quickly walked into the most modern hostel he could find and hurriedly asked for accommodations. He was given an appallingly ugly room with a view on the roof of a neighbouring house. It smelled damp and there were some traces of mildew on the walls. Snape suppressed his dismay and sat on the bed. Still utterly shaken by what he had seen. He didn't want to allow the images and the memories back into his mind, but they came unbidden and with the force of things long suppressed.  
  
He went through his belongings and quickly left the room again, not bothering to change and too shaken to be quiet. He left the hotel and aimlessly wandered through the town. It was a relatively modern town that had quickly expanded in the last few years. It was soulless, ghostless and slightly calming in its utter emptiness. Snape walked until he was exhausted before he went back in the direction of his hotel.  
  
Dinner wasn't served any longer, of course, so he got himself a quick snack. He went back to his room, now calm enough to gather his belongings and arrange them more carefully. When he went through his books and re-enlarged them again, he froze. His potions manual was missing. The collection of descriptions and recipes, the ever expanding and cherished handbook of all known plants and herbs. He knew he couldn't miss it. It contained many handwritten notes and personal additions from the last months. Further research would be useless without it.  
  
He knew he must have left it in the inn. There could be no other possibility. He never took it with him in the field and he had had it just the evening before. Sweat broke out. He didn't want to return to the inn. Somehow he knew he would no longer have any hold on the nightmarish memories when he did. But he didn't want to miss his manual. For minutes he stood very still, debating and arguing with himself but it was of no use. He once more gathered his belongings and left.   
  
It was very dark when he was standing in front of the inn again. He needed a moment to collect himself and enter. He vaguely noticed that there seemed to be something amiss. There was a larger group of people who were gathered there then usual and he heard the sounds of a lively debate. He shook his head irritatedly, took the doorhandle and entered the inn.  
  
At his entrance a deep silence fell among the people who were inside. All heads turned towards him and the time seemed to stand still. Snape froze, not understanding the reaction. But then "Severus!! You are a godsend."  
  
For a moment the world seemed to turn around Snape at a nauseating speed. He thought that he must be dreaming, that his worst nightmare had somehow come true. Remus Lupin just couldn't be here. Not here, in this isolated part of Germany, deep in the Dark Forest, a place somehow removed from the course of time. But he was. And he approached Severus with an outstretched hand.  
  
With a dazed expression Snape noted that Lupin took his hand and drew him to the table, where a cauldron with a bubbling liquid was standing. Somehow, Snape noted that the villagers seemed to relax a little bit and that the men standing closest to the door suddenly had a posture a little less rigid and threatening.  
  
"You've got to help us, Severus. I can't believe that you should show up just now. This thing is so hellishly complicated, but we need it more than anything. It has to save the people here. Please, could you take a look at it? I think I have overdone the wormwood, but I just don't understand..."  
  
Snape no longer registered what Lupin was saying. The shock had been too profound. Lupin, the memories of the Hogwarts dungeons, potions and students were all buried deep in his mind, shut in a dark room and hidden under layers of self-protection. Severus knew he couldn't approach this room yet. The memories were still far too painful. He hadn't had enough time as yet to build up a reserve before he unleashed those memories upon himself.  
  
He couldn't start to understand what Lupin wanted of him. He didn't want to remember that last meeting of the Order of the Phoenix before he had left. He couldn't deal with the feeling of being so completely and utterly lost.  
  
He drew his hand back and took a step back and snarled at Lupin. "What do you want, werewolf. See to it that bury yourself in some ditch before you infect somebody else with your bestiality!"  
  
He saw with grim satisfaction that Lupin paled and withdrew as if he had struck him. It soothed a bit of his own pain to see his adversary lose countenance, and it helped him to put the situation into the right perspective. He took a few more steps as if he didn't want to stay in the inn any longer than was necessary.  
  
But Lupin made a visible attempt to control himself and shakingly said "Severus, please wait. I need you."  
  
Snape paused, already half turned away. He waited for the other to continue.  
  
"I need you to help us with the brewing of the Wolfsbane Potion. Please. We need it desperately. A rabid werewolf has been running havoc around this neighbourhood and some of the villagers have been affected. It is a catastrophe."   
  
A strange feeling of déjà vu came over Severus. The despair of the times before the decline of Voldemort seemed to come back to him and again the buried emotions seemed to raise their ugly heads.  
  
"What do you want from me?" he hoarsely asked. Go get yourself a potions manual if you need instruction. Leave me alone!"  
  
Lupin carefully approached the other man. "Severus, please," he softly said, "this is no joke. I mean..."  
  
Severus froze. "You mean that this isn't an attempt to either risk my life or to waste my time?"  
  
"No," Lupin quietly said, eyeing the other man carefully. I need your help Severus. I can't brew the Wolfsbane potion myself and I need it. Please take a look at this."  
  
Severus knew he had to run up the stairs, grab his manual and flee, but some strange fascination made him halt and listen. Lupin again, but this time very carefully, took his hand and gently drew him towards the table again.   
  
"You see, for some reason the colour seems strange. And it doesn't get as steamy as you always make it. And I distinctly smell those wings. And I never could when you brewed it. And also..."  
  
Severus allowed himself to be drawn to the table. For some reason he couldn't escape the gentle man beside him. There was no way for him to escape the pain in his heart and so he allowed himself to drawn in the world of the potions. He patiently answered Lupin's questions and finally shoved him aside and started to brew the potion anew. He mechanically started to chop and cut the ingredients, not allowing his mind to stray beyond that task.  
  
Somehow the process of the brewing soothed his nerves a very little bit. After a while he calmed down sufficiently to shove his nausea and all the accompanying memories back into a dark and hidden corner of his mind. He no longer felt the tears prick behind his eyelashes, and he didn't have to blink in order to see sharply. But he was tired, so tired that had trouble concentrating. It was the same thing all over again. He was called because they needed to have some work done.  
  
It took quite a while before he had finished the potion as the ingredients needed a long time to simmer. All the time he was about it, nobody said anything. A dead silence seemed to lay over the inn. All the eyes were directed at Severus, but he never noticed it. Finally he came towards the last stage of the potion. Everything now depended on a very accurate timing, the swish of his wand at the right syllable and the correct pronunciation of the incantation. After that he was done.   
  
Severus put the flame down in order to let the potion cool down and then swept past the villagers to make his way upstairs. Nobody hindered him. Nobody said anything. It was as if the complete silence had crept through everything.  
  
When he lay in bed he was too exhausted even to fall asleep. The Dark Forest had seemed the last place where he might get some peace of mind. He didn't know where to go to now. It seemed that his memories and his pain would haunt him forever.  
  
The next morning he crept out of his bed. Unrested and weary, he got dressed with indifferent carelessness and went downstairs. When he descended the stairs, all conversations were broken off abruptly. Snape felt as if he was observed through a thousand eyes when he sat down at his usual table.  
  
The host came up to him, but far less jovially and friendly than he had done previously. He awkwardly asked what Snape wanted for breakfast. Snape curtly ordered. After a while the villagers started to whisper among themselves. Snape pretended not to hear it, but his stomach clenched and his slight hunger disappeared altogether.  
  
He was on the point of leaving the inn, when Lupin came down the stairs and went to Snape immediately, although hesitatingly.  
  
"Severus? Do you mind if I join you?"  
  
Snape only raised his eyebrow, thinking it rather pointless to deny the request, but annoyed because of it all the same.  
  
For a few minutes they were both silent. Then, reservedly, Lupin said, "Severus, I would like to thank you for what you did yesterday. Your coming here was a godsend."  
  
Snape just shrugged. "You should try and learn to brew it by yourself, Lupin. It is far too dangerous for you not to be able to."  
  
"Would you teach me?" Lupin softly asked.  
  
Severus said nothing. He knew that he didn't have to. Lupin would just assume that he would teach him. He would think that Severus wouldn't be able to refuse it anyway, out of the goodness of some previously unheard-of soft spot in his heart.  
  
And it really didn't matter, of course. There was no place left for him to go, and nothing had really changed. So he said nothing and poked in the food on his plate, pretending to eat. He didn't look at Lupin, so the hand that closed around his came as a complete surprise.  
  
"Severus. What can I say to you?"  
  
Severus blinked at him, taken off guard and not understanding.  
  
"What do you mean, what can you say to me?" he snapped.  
  
Lupin sighed. "Nothing. Could you start teaching me today? We need larger supplies of the potion anyway."  
  
"The sooner the better," Severus snapped.  
  
They finished their breakfast in silence.  
  
During the days that followed, Severus taught Lupin the correct brewing of the potion. It took a while before Remus Lupin mastered its subtle intricacies. It wasn't helping that many of the ingredients were dangerous for the werewolf as long as they were still unprepared, and that Lupin needed a rather thorough background in potions lore in order to be able to teach others.  
  
The periods of their working together started out awkwardly. Severus didn't feel at ease and observed by all the villagers. Lupin never said much, but he observed Severus very carefully and did his best to master the potion as soon as possible.   
  
Severus got more annoyed at each passing day, feeling more than uncomfortable at the inn and more than ever unable to escape his mind. During the entire period Lupin had been unusually patient and quiet, although Snape snapped at him in the slight hope to get a reaction out of him. When he thought, Severus wasn't looking, Lupin cast him long and thoughtful looks.  
  
It came as a relief that one evening, late at night, Snape declared Lupin to be passably capable of brewing the potion of his own. It was far too late to be leaving at that moment, so he grudgingly prepared himself for the last night in the inn. Lupin didn't say anything but left the room. Snape pretended not to mind.   
  
It was with relief that he closed the door of his chamber for the last night. The next day he would be able to be gone. Anything would be better than to endure Lupin's continued presence and the subsequent restlessness that came with it. And the villagers would no doubt be relieved to see him gone. They had kept their distance after his identity had been revealed.  
  
The next day he rose early, packing his possessions once more and preparing to leave. He partook of breakfast and prepared to leave.  
  
He went to find the host to pay his bill. To his surprise, the man raised his hand and refused to accept the fee.   
  
'Please, sir, we would all be very honoured to consider you a guest."  
  
Snape stared at him, surprised and uncomprehendingly.  
  
"You have done so much for us, sir, please accept our hospitality as a means to thank you."  
  
A movement behind him startled Snape. A small girl had entered the inn. She came up to him and shyly offered him flowers.  
  
Snape stood frozen. Behind the girl, other villagers came in. smiling a bit nervously. The last one was Remus Lupin. One of the villagers stood right in front of Snape.   
  
"Sir, we would all like to thank you for what you did. We have never had such a terrible threat before, and you have given us hope. Thank you. Thank you for what you did for us. We know that you did a lot for us, and we are very grateful."  
  
Snape couldn't find a word to say.  
  
A woman came forward. "Sir, we noticed your interest in herbs and recipes, and your friend told us about your profession. We would like to offer you something."  
  
Before Snape's bemused eyes, she reached him a book. He opened it and saw that it was full of handwritten recipes and notes.   
  
"We tried to collect everything we knew and remembered, everything we ever learned from our mothers and grandmothers, every recipe for medicines, herbs and ailments we ever knew. We hope it can be of some use to you. Behind her, the other men and women all had put something on one of the tables in the inn. It was herbs, the same that Snape had already collected, but in much larger quantities and excellently dried. Added to that came minerals and the gems that were found in the Dark Forest.  
  
"We hope that you would accept this as a token of our gratitude, and that you will some day come back as our guest."  
  
Snape was afraid that if he spoke a word, he wouldn't be able to prevent his tears from running down. His throat was constricted and he couldn't say a word.  
  
In the awkward silence that followed, Remus Lupin came forward. The villagers parted to allow him passage and looked at Severus, a bit apprehensively, not understanding his silence.  
  
Lupin laid his hand gently an Severus' arm.  
  
"Severus, would you please forgive me?"  
  
Snape looked at him, not understanding.  
  
"I never before acknowledged the fact, that everyone needs to be recognised for what they do. I never thanked you for what you did. I - we all - took too much for granted. Please accept this, Severus, you deserve it."  
  
Slowly the extent of what was happening dawned on Severus.   
  
"Thank you," he only said, hoarsely, to no one in particular.  
  
The crowd still looked at him, waiting for more of an answer. The women looked at each other.   
  
Suddenly red-haired woman stepped out of it and briskly said, "Yes, well, so that is over. Sir, would you like to stay a bit longer? We have baked cakes. We ought to celebrate this day and be happy that nobody got hurt any worse!"  
  
And to Snape's infinite relief, she walked around, ordering and arranging so that everyone was given tea and cakes.  
  
In the bustle that followed, he risked to look at Lupin's face. He found that the werewolf was still looking at him. Once again, Lupin laid his hand on his arm.   
  
"Severus, perhaps you still wish for solitude and rest. But I would like it very much if one day we could spend some time together. We are due to finally meet properly."  
  
And Severus couldn't find it in his heart to snap at that. It was true that he still desperately longed for solitude and rest, but the thought that he had someone to return to after his travels, somehow gave some peace to his heart. He looked up to Lupin and only very slightly nodded. Lupin smiled and closed his hand around Severus' arm. 


End file.
